


Fork, Knife, Spoon

by Hambone



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Dark, M/M, Onesided, Spark Sexual Interfacing, sex as payment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 08:12:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5121224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scalpel doesn't feel love, not really, but it's close.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fork, Knife, Spoon

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 'Ween!

“It’s payment, of course.”

“I understand that. I am simply shocked you, of all people, had the gall to ask this of me.”

Shockwave leaned back even as he spoke, letting the counter serve a new purpose. Scalpel was scraping his tiny legs together, perhaps unconsciously, and the building chirr of it was starting to grate on him. He wasn’t actually surprised, not at all, but it was best to put off the illusion at least that he had not come here knowing full well what would be asked of him in return. Despite the inconspicuous nature of his size, Scalpel was not subtle by nature.

“Vell,” Scalpel chirped, scurrying over the vaults and ramps he had built for himself from his workroom, “zis is a very, shall ve say, _delicate_ matter, is it not?” his warmth radiated across the cold table, “I figure delicate payment fits ze bill.”

“Perhaps.”

Shockwave’s pupil slid over to watch him approach, but he otherwise remained relaxed. He was not afraid of Scalpel. Even with his immense capacity for cruelty, it was hard to see the little doctor as a threat when his thorax hardly halved the width of a single one of his claws. Still, the situation was not wholly desirable, as it required a chunk of time he could have spent occupied elsewhere and was somewhat repugnant in nature, should he care to consider the small flutter of emotion that passed, only briefly, through his spark worthy of acknowledging.

Of course, those insignificant little flutters were the source of the problem as well. He let his head fall forward to his chest, neck looped in a fat ring, and he let the dimming of his optic signify his acceptance. Scalpel did not need more encouragement, the sharp click of his many stabilizing servos ringing dim as he finally, gleefully mounted the hill of Shockwave’s breast. He rubbed his little hands together like an insect, mandibles spread wide.

“Before we begin,” Shockwave said, not needing to be forceful to get his point across, “I must tell you that if I sense even an implication that your word means nothing, I will crush you to a fine powder.”

“Such a vivid imagination.”

Unperturbed, Scalpel was rubbing his own chest, legs tickling the ancient armor beneath them as his claws searched for seams.

“As you said, this is a delicate situation.” Shockwave allowed his plating to flare, showing off a glimpse of his interwoven layering and making Scalpel sigh with delight. “I am allowed a lapse in artistic vision, given the circumstances.”

Scalpel laughed in an ugly way and busied himself digging around inside what little Shockwave had exposed, tiny vents singing high and hot. Shockwave would have liked to have let himself go, unfocused and bored as the little thing had his way, but even though he did not fear Scalpel, he trusted no mech, not with this. He focused on brightening the biolights around his head and waist, hoping to appear more enticing. Time was of the essence, if only in essence of his emotional wellbeing.

On top of that it was clear Scalpel was already finely aroused, his abdomen pulsing with excited EM signals as he clicked about in a similar way as when he was preparing a subject for vivisection.

“Mm,” he hummed, getting Scalpel to look away from his impending nakedness, “if I open like this you’re libel to fall in.”

“And such a romantic too.” Scalpel hissed in good humor, running his servos across Shockwave’s still cold air vents. “I had planned on taking my time.”

“Not all of us have the leisure of playing games all cycle.”

Though he was clearly already quite hot and bothered, Scalpel whistled wistfully, flaring out a bit as he observed Shockwave’s palette of a face. There was nothing to read, but his optics were often glued there, when they could be. Such a cold, dead face. He dreamed of crawling inside it, nesting there by the brain, that lovely brain.

He considered reminding Shockwave of what was at stake here, but held what passed for his tongue. He was not so stupid as to imagine he was Shockwave’s last hope, nor that the commander would have any reservations about destroying him on the spot should he be anything less than silent on the matter outside of this room. The thought of being so coldly murdered caused a shiver that rattled through his whole frame and his vents flared wide. The weight of his swollen spark was too much to bear.

“Jou know I enjoy taking apart ze frame best of all,” he said, almost wheedling though he relented and moved back, just enough to retain a nice view as, without any real hesitation, Shockwave split himself apart and exposed the thick glass covering of his laser core. Shockwave looked at him, head cocked in an almost demure way even as he spoke with total authority, “I’m afraid that wasn’t part of our deal, doctor.”

“Ah,” and Scalpel freed his own source of life into the bath of red that poured from Shockwave’s chest, “Ve do vhat ve must.”

Honestly it was impressive to both of them that he could keep such a steady voice for his wit, as the wild shaking of his frame did nothing to hide his bursting desire. Shockwave’s spark was immense, powerful, each slow turn echoing loudly between them like a clap of distant thunder. Gorgeous, ruthless. Even being this close sent licks of energy into Scalpel’s exposed corona, sparks between his knees.

“What we must,” Shockwave echoed, and his spark seemed to tremble with humor, “Indeed.”

Scalpel was upon him before he could help himself. His legs, sharp and weak, bowed over the pit inside Shockwave’s chest, finding what purchase they could on the layers and layers of metal that had petaled open for him so easily, so peacefully. Braced as a spider on the web, he leaned in and took in what he could of Shockwave with his hands and eyes, burning, blues and reds mixing in his visual feed as the sensation scrambled it. He felt close to melting and the pain made him cackle.

There was no further attempt to cage the coupling to rules after that. Shockwave had no fear of mishap between them – he was too old and Scalpel was too small. Their sparks would not even meld, much less bond. There was a higher chance of the bug pushing too close and shorting himself out on the well of raw power he was tapping into than there was of Shockwave overloading.

He looked close to shorting anyhow. He pressed his engorged blue ball of light close as he could, riding the waves of gravity that swam around him like a miniature sun. Desperation fed into the spitting of his animal spark, pushing and pushing with the need to be drowned in the essence of another. His spark almost seemed to warp with the pressure, rubbing flat and oblong as Scalpel began pushing his chest in a small rhythm, the transference of energy too much for total contact but possible to maintain safely with skill or practice. Shockwave doubted he’d had much of the latter, though. He could hardly feel him at all, if not for his hypersensitive security system informing him of the real proximity to his core and every minute change in it. He’d had to spend almost a full two cycles deactivating it just enough to get this far, but the situation had called for desperation. Delicate, Scalpel had said. He wasn’t sure if the humor in it was subtle or of his own making.

Distraction was dangerous and yet he had succumbed to it. Shockwave only awakened from his thoughts at the realization that Scalpel’s tiny grunt signified his overload, a small, yet noticeable, wash of hot energy dispersing into the field surrounding his spark. The doctor’s optics were glazed behind his spectacles, every sensory antenna aquiver. Had he been any less repulsive of a mech Shockwave might have considered his unusual frame and obvious affection an easily exploitable outlet for the sensual aspects of his nature, but they had moved beyond that possibility long ago. Obviously it hadn’t lessened Scalpel’s enjoyment of the experience to know Shockwave had felt nothing, however, as he continued to pulse with small jolts of pleasure for several kliks before finally beginning to return to lucidity.

“Exquisite,” he breathed, and then broke off into a small mumble of meaningless romanticisms in his old dialect that Shockwave pretended not to hear or understand.

“I’m glad we could find mutual satisfaction,” he said, and though their current position was not the part of the deal that pleased himself he knew the implication was enough to make Scalpel stutter in his disentanglement from his own awkward position. Shockwave could have helped him back to the table, he supposed, but he’d rather not. Scalpel’s spark remained bare and breathing heat into the thin atmosphere as he tried to cool his systems.

“It is a shame jou do not share the lab with me more often anymore,” Scalpel said finally, and Shockwave closed himself away.

“Our successes were many, but I have become otherwise occupied in my pursuits.”

Scalpel looked to him for a moment, but Shockwave’s gaze was far away on the crumpled pile of metal in the center of the room, as it had been in one way or another for the past thousand-odd stellar cycles. Already the air around him was as cold as the space outside his window.

“I vill have my prognosis for jou soon,” he said finally, but his legs were still rubber and his spark heavy with excess burnout. Shockwave didn’t seem to notice, standing, huge again, and nodding blindly. For a moment Scalpel could almost see the way he had once perceived him, a god of death, a mech of science, but then again he never did find out when the lies had begun. Shockwave spoke softly.

“I expect nothing but the best from you.”

“And zat is what jou shall get.”

 


End file.
